


More Than Instinct

by Lynnwood



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: A/B/O Dynamics (sort of), Alpha!Gladio, Alternate Universe, Bottom!Ravus, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies-to-Lovers-to-Friends, Ignis Is A Good Bro, M/M, M/M Smut, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Noctis Has All The Snark, Omega!Ravus, Prompto is precious, Ravus has issues, Self-Harm, This Trope Is Mine To Toy With Yo, Top!Gladio, UST, You'll Pry Hopeless-Romantic Gladio From My Cold Dead Fingers, like all the issues, self-hate, shitty parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 09:30:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14997920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynnwood/pseuds/Lynnwood
Summary: Ravus Nox Fleuret, first son of Tenebrae, was born to be a King but the cruel and fickle Astrals had other plans in store for him. They instead condemned the young prince with the dynamic of an omega, a male omega; rarest of the dynamic combinations and seen by many as the weakest and most useless. Unwilling to live with the shame of its discovery, his mother forced Ravus to begin taking suppressants from the moment of his first heat and trained him to convince all the world he was actually a beta. Ravus has since devoted himself to making that lie as much of a reality as possible, becoming a warrior with few equals and brutally training his mind and body to fight against his true nature. There is no alpha or beta alive who can shake his confidence or his hard-won iron clad control. At least not until he comes face to face with Gladiolus Amicitia . . . .





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeeeeah . . . normally I’m a devout Gladnis fan. Like, I will go down with that ship. But Gladio/Ravus is a guilty, cracky rare-pair pleasure of mine and I couldn’t resist the urge to indulge myself a bit. I’ve also been interested in dipping my toes into the shallow end of the A/B/O trope (or at least my own amalgamated, home-brewed version of it) and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. The biggest changes from my version to others is no knotting, no mpreg, no futanari fem-alphas. Omega slick is a thing tho, as is scenting pheromones, bite-marking, heats, ruts and all that fun stuff in between.
> 
> So if two doods going at it during mating cycles with implausible male anatomies is your thing, sit back and enjoy! Feel free to drop a comment or a kudos, they’re always appreciated. Side note, ages have been adjusted here or there for my own preference (Luna and Ravus are a little closer in age to the Chocobros for example, who are overall a little older than they are in-game). Second side note, if anyone is following my other FFXV AU ‘Fur and Fang,’ it’s not abandoned. I have every intention of getting back to it . . . eventually. Yep. 
> 
> And lastly, as an overly cautious FYI, this chapter deals with a 13 year old popping a boner. So if that squicks you, feel free to skim past it.

Even at birth, there were hints that something was . . . off with Ravus Nox Fleuret. First son of Queen Sylva and her Prince-Consort Caeruleus, Ravus was destined to be a King, born to the role. And yet even as an infant there were odd differences between himself and his alpha mother and beta father that stood out. Both the Queen and Prince-Consort were fair-haired but Ravus’ was so pale it was silvery white. His eyes were a heterochromic mismatched set of pale blue and lavender, skin so fair it was nearly translucent, his tiny body thin and almost delicately frail.

As the years passed he grew into a tall—if still somewhat lithe and lanky—teen. Meanwhile Ravus did his best to meet and exceed every expectation his mother set before him, doggedly determined to be worthy of her praise and his royal heritage. But he could never quite shake the feeling deep inside him that something just wasn’t right. The reason for it wouldn’t be revealed until shortly after his thirteenth birthday.

All day long a sense of unease had grown in his mind and body, like a pervasive itch he couldn’t quite scratch. An odd sort of crawling sensation just under his skin, of which had become overheated and overly sensitized as the hours dragged on. Ravus had barely made it through his lessons, unable to concentrate much through the hazy fog that had taken up residence in his brain. It was like his head was stuffed with cotton. He was sure it was just some random illness though, a flu of some sort that would pass soon enough on its own. Thus Ravus said nothing of his affliction and instead retreated to his rooms for the remainder of the afternoon and evening. Determined to wait it out on his own.

But now that night had fully fallen, his strange symptoms and condition were only getting worse. Ravus had kicked all the sheets and blankets from the bed and stripped himself down to his underwear, unable to stand anything else touching his overly sensitized skin. The young boy thrashed a little, sweating and flushed, panting with the strength of the confusing sensations thundering through his thin frame. By now he knew something was very, _very_ wrong with him but he no longer had the strength or mental clarity to really do anything about it. All he seemed capable of was twisting and writhing on the bed, feeling _desperate_ for something but having no idea what that was. He let out a loud keening sort of noise that echoed eerily throughout the room and carried down the halls outside, though he hardly noticed.

Ravus did notice, however, when the door to his bedroom suddenly cracked open and a servant cautiously poked his head in.

“Young highness, are you alri—,” the well-meaning man’s inquiry suddenly choked off into a strangled noise of shock, eyes widening to the size of saucers.

For Ravus’ part he’d gone stock still, head lifted and gaze suddenly fixed on the other man. The scent of beta male wafted into the room, into the young prince’s nose and suddenly the itchy, achy frustration in his body turned into something else altogether. All at once and against all sense, his groin began to throb and ache with frighteningly powerful arousal. He barely knew the passably attractive servant’s face after all, let alone his name or anything else about him. Certainly nothing to warrant the near-instant erection now tenting the front of his boxer briefs. But it was the scent, the smell of a male in his prime. Someone his instincts were suddenly telling him was more than capable of helping Ravus deal with this powerful _wanting_ that was now eating him alive. Panting for a completely different reason, the boy actually sat up and started to push himself off the bed to get closer to that scent and the man wearing it.

The warm rush of liquid heat that suddenly spread from between his legs froze him in place yet again however, and the prince gasped. Eyes slowly rounding in utter horror as Ravus suddenly—finally—understood _why._

No . . . . nononononono! It couldn’t be! He _couldn’t_ be a . . . _no!_ Ravus was shaking now from shock and fear, utter disbelief, and didn’t even notice the servant jerking back out of the room and then disappearing down the hall.

Moments later the door to his bedroom was being shoved open fully and his mother rushed in, her pale blue nightgown covered in a hastily donned silk dressing gown. His father was right behind her in his own bedclothes, the original servant hovering behind him just outside the doorway. A moment later and his ten year old sister Lunafreya appeared as well, also in a nightgown, her young face wreathed in worry.

“Papa, what—,”

“Hush Luna,” he quickly interrupted, grabbing a hold of her shoulder and halting her when she would have pushed past.

Meanwhile Queen Sylva rushed up to her son’s side and started to reach out to him, but aborted the action at the last minute and drew back again, fingers curling into an uncertain fist before they dropped altogether. Ravus just stared up at his mother with wide and panicky eyes, his entire being filling with dread as the alpha female regarded him silently. Her expression was stern with resignation, but her eyes were creased with worry. Worry and disappointment.

Until the day he died, Ravus would always remember that look and how much seeing it directed at him had _hurt._

“Mother, I . . .” he panted, clutching at the sweaty sheet underneath him. Some desperate part of him wanted to make an excuse, try to deny it, even though he knew it was impossible. There was no hiding the scent now permeating the room, betraying the horrible truth to anyone with a nose close enough to smell it.

It was the scent of an omega in heat. A _male_ omega. Weakest of all the dynamic combinations, completely worthless, not even useful for breeding. He was supposed to be a prince, a future king! Not . . . this.

His mother drew herself up after another moment or two of silent shock, suddenly full of purpose. “It’s true then,” she pronounced heavily. “I’ll stay with him for now. Caeruleus, go and make the necessary preparations. Luna, go and fetch some water and towels. And Nevan,” she then addressed the nervous servant in the hall. Her blue eyes were sharp and cold, filled with the full force of an alpha’s dominance, “breathe one word of this to anyone and I am certain you can imagine the dire consequences that will follow.”

Ravus felt his whole body jerk at the sound, a cold knot of terror settling in the pit of his gut. Along with it was an immediate, powerful and instinctual need to obey the owner of that voice and it wasn’t even directed at him! His mother’s command had always been strong and difficult to deny, but never like this. Nevan the servant was similarly affected by the compulsion, even as a beta, and nodded jerkily before wisely excusing himself from the scene. His grim-faced father rushed off on whatever ‘preparations’ were in store while Luna disappeared into his en-suite bathroom.

His sister returned moments later and handed over a small pitcher of water and a couple of hand towels, then stepped back again and hovered in uncertainty. The Queen stepped over to a nearby nightstand and poured the water into the ceramic basin. She dipped a towel into the water, wrung it out and then carefully sat on the bed near her son. Who had tracked her every movement with wide eyes, his breath still beating a loud staccato rhythm in and out of his thin chest.

“Mother, what am I . . . ?” he warbled as she reached out and began to gently wipe away the sweat and grime from his flushed face. Her expression was carefully neutral and it did nothing to soothe his mounting terror and uncertainty. “What do I do?”

“You’ve presented, Ravus,” she began softly. “As an o-omega.” She stumbled a little over the word, expression tightening but then the female alpha took a deep and steadying breath and forged ahead. “I had feared as much for some time. It is an unfortunate turn, but not insurmountable.” His mother suddenly took his chin firmly in one hand and lifted his face, forcing him to meet her powerful stare head on. His whole body shook in response. “Above all else, you are a Nox Fleuret,” she pronounced sternly. “The son of Kings. No one can ever know that you are an omega, Ravus. Ever. Do you understand?”

Ravus swallowed loudly, confusion rampant. “What? No, I-I don’t . . . how am I supposed to . . . .” He seemed incapable of forming complete and coherent sentences anymore. Thankfully his mother understood his meaning well enough. She went back to wiping his face and neck with the cool towel, almost absently.

“There is a medication you will begin immediately. It will mask your scent and stall the heat cycle indefinitely. You’ll also begin special training, to condition you to be able to withstand an alpha’s compulsion. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, Ravus, you will remain a beta. If anyone were to ever suspect otherwise . . . .” Here she trailed off, but Ravus didn’t need her to clarify beyond that. He might be young but he wasn’t stupid. In many parts of Eos—Tenebrae included—omegas were considered second class citizens at best, whores and breeding stock at worst. “Your sister will now have to inherit, of course,” the Queen continued, tone almost dismissive and matter-of-fact in an attempt to downplay the enormity of her words.

Lunafreya gaped in the background while Ravus just scowled. Hot, futile tears suddenly burned his vision. _Of course,_ he thought bitterly. _There_ _was no such thing as_ _an_ omega _k_ _ing._

“We’ll make the announcement in a few years to avoid suspicion. Meanwhile you’ll train and take up a position in the military instead, like your father. All will work itself out, you’ll see.” The last was no doubt meant to be comforting, but Ravus doubted anything could accomplish that feat now.

His father returned soon after, something clutched in his fist. Another wave of bitterness swept over Ravus, at how his parents seemed so prepared for this. Just how long had they suspected? Had they always known that he would turn out to be . . . lesser?

Caeruleus quickly neared and handed over his burden to his wife, which appeared to be some sort of injection pen.

“Take Lunafreya back to her room,” the Queen bade after she took it. Caeruleus hesitated however, expression uncertain.

“Are you sure you want to do this right away, Sylva? Marcus said it can be dangerous, administering the drug to someone so young. Not to mention right in the middle of an active heat—,”

“Whatever the consequences,” she interrupted sternly, “they will be far better than the alternative.” Her tone left no room for argument. So his father turned away without another protest, taking Luna by the shoulders and forcefully leading her out of the room. The door shut behind them with a soft click of strange finality.

Ravus could only gulp a little, watching with a fresh stab of nerves as his mother quickly prepped the injection.

“If it’s dangerous,” he began, voice cracking, licking at his dry lips and gaining her attention. He felt his whole body try to wilt under the weight of her stare after her eyes flicked up to meet his own. “I-is it going to hurt?” Ravus finally managed in a hoarse whisper. The Queen sighed, her expression sorrowful but resolute.

“I won’t lie, Ravus, it won’t be pleasant. But you will endure it.”

It wasn’t a question, and the young prince decided not to take it as one. He drew himself up as straight as he could manage, trying to calm his breathing and settle his still-out-of-control emotions. Yes, his mother was right. No matter what, he would endure. He was a Nox Fleuret, to hell with anything else. If he could no longer be king, so be it. He was more than his dynamic however, stronger than his biology tried to dictate. He would prove it. To his mother, to himself, to the whole world if he had to. Ravus Nox Fleuret _would_ overcome this.

When Queen Sylva leaned in with the injection pen, Ravus forced himself not to flinch or react, staring hard at the wall over her shoulder and remaining perfectly still. He winced only slightly when the needle pierced the skin on the side of his neck—directly into one of his scent glands—and then grimaced a little when the medication within was pushed into his bloodstream. At first, nothing seemed to happen. His mother removed the needle and sat back, eyeing him warily. Ravus just stared at her, and after another moment or two passed without incident, he started to smile a little in relief.

And _then_ it took effect.

Ravus let out a strangled cry as pure agony suddenly lit up his entire body. It felt like his very blood was on fire, his gut twisting like it was suddenly filled with a hundred razor blades. The boy collapsed forward on the bed and immediately curled into a fetal position, muscles spasming and locking up with the sheer strength of it. The Queen did what she could to try and console him through the torment, a hand on his shoulder and the other bracing against his curled back. Ravus was completely oblivious to it however, only able to concentrate on the pain, which now seemed as though it was never going to end. He continued to cry for who knew how long, until his voice gave out completely. All he could do was huddle into a shaking ball on his bed and endure, as the suppressant slowly circulated through his body and did its awful work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yah, starting right off the bat with the reason behind the ‘Shitty Parenting’ tag. Ugh, poor bb Ravus . . . *gives him a super squishy hug* Pls forgive me! It’ll get better I promise. Eventually anyhow. :P Had to check with the hubby to make sure 13 was old enough for boys to start feeling . . . ahem . . . feelings. He assures me I’m safe, lol. Hopefully not too pervy/weird, promise this is the extent of the underage mentions.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how long this fic is going to be, probably not too long. I have a bad track record with multi-chapter stories after all *sheepish look*. Basically I hope to give this story just enough setting and structure to not be complete plot-less porn (not that there’s anything wrong with that . . .)
> 
> EDIT - Once again, these weird damned spacing errors! I swear they're not in my copy and I don't see them when I try to edit. -_-* SO ANNOYING.

The scenery of the Leide region of Lucis—such as it was—whizzed by outside the car window. Ravus watched it pass with a carefully cultivated expression of bland boredom, chin propped on a curled fist from where his elbow was braced against the car door. The twenty-eight year old Commander felt his lip curl a little in distaste. It was so dull, so drab . . . so _brown._ Choked with sand and very little vegetation to be had at all. Certainly nothing to compare to the beautiful forests and vast sylleblossom fields of his homeland. But he wasn’t _in_ his homeland anymore, and very likely never would be again.

Instead, at that very moment Ravus was sitting in the back seat of a large, rather luxurious black SUV—part of a small convoy of the same. Lunafreya sat calmly at his side, while the driver and passenger seats were occupied by two men dressed smartly in the all-black uniform of the Lucian Kingsglaive. They were currently speeding down the road toward the Crown City of Insomnia, so that his sister could sell herself to the Lucis Caelum royal line. All in exchange for their country remaining out of the hands of the accursed Nifflheim Empire.

The two superpowers of Lucis and Nifflheim had been locked into bloody war against each other for what seemed like centuries, at times viciously active and at others frozen into an uneasy stalemate. For the most part, the smaller kingdoms like Accordo and Tenebrae had managed to remain largely neutral and uninvolved with the constant conflict. All that had changed several years ago however, shortly after their mother’s sudden and unexpected death. Lunafreya had assumed the throne and undoubtedly made a compassionate, capable ruler, but she was no alpha. Perceiving potential weakness, the Empire had struck fast and hard, assuming easy victory. They’d not counted on Tenebrae’s wealth and resources, or their own stubborn tenacity. They had managed to hold the Empire at bay for nearly two years now, against all odds. Despite being no where near the same size and strength of firepower. But that couldn’t last.

Ravus had known it was a losing battle, it was simply a matter of time. They wouldn’t be able to hold out against the Empire forever and he’d counseled Luna as much. Just when the young Queen had been ready to give in and surrender to Nifflheim—if for no other reason than to avoid any more bloodshed and death of her people—they’d received word from King Regis of Lucis. Seeming out of the blue, he offered them an alliance. Tenebrae would be annexed as a territory under Lucian control, its royalty abolished and its nobles swearing fealty to Lucis, all in return for their protection against Nifflheim. A treaty signed and sealed with Lunafreya’s marriage to the Lucian heir, Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum.

Luna’s decision had been almost immediate, sending word of her agreement to the terms the very next day. Between the two countries, Lucis was by far the lesser of two evils after all. Still, for Ravus, accepting it all was a lot like swallowing battery acid. His pride chafed horribly at the knowledge that he’d been unable to defeat his enemy alone, forced to go crawling to the Lucians for aid and protection. It rankled, the thought of turning his sister over to the Lucian Prince like a piece of meat, for all that Lunafreya seemed—if not perfectly content—at least at peace with the arrangement. More than all that though, Ravus hated the idea of losing his home.

After abdicating in favor of Luna, Ravus had devoted his entire life to serving and protecting his country. If this was to be his new reality, he had decided, then he was going to make damn sure he’d be the very best at it. He had trained his body to fight as if it were a religion, devoting nearly every waking moment toward honing his abilities. As a result his skill and prowess with a blade now knew no equal in his home country of Tenebrae and very few outside of it.

Ravus had also trained his mind. In secret sessions with an alpha—a long-time family retainer who could be trusted with his shameful secret—he’d developed his mental fortitude and willpower until he could withstand and overcome his natural omega instincts to submit. It had been sheer hell at first, but Ravus refused to give in. He could now ignore all but the strongest of alpha compulsions with little difficulty. As his mother had wanted, so long as he continued his . . . medication regimen, no one would ever be able to tell he was anything other than the beta everyone assumed him to be. Ravus had risen up the ranks quickly as a result. Not because of his noble blood either, but through sheer force of will, skill and determination. Becoming his father’s second-in-command, and then eventually replacing him as Commander of the Tenebraen army after his death in battle.

But now, all of that meant nothing. He was the Commander of an army that would no longer exist. Member of a royal house soon to be completely dissolved, no doubt lost to the sands of time. The noble traditions and beauty of the great nation of Tenebrae would soon be all but forgotten. Lunafreya would marry the Prince of Lucis, would eventually go on to become Queen at his side once Regis passed. But him? Ravus had utterly no clue what would become of him now. His name had not been a part of the hastily hashed out treaty agreements, after all. Of course, what did Regis care about the fate of a prince with no country left to belong to?

The tinted pane of glass separating the front seats from the back suddenly slid down with a mechanical whir, revealing that the passenger was currently twisted around in their direction. A beta—as most members of the Kingsglaive were—he looked to be a little older than Ravus himself, perhaps thirty or so. His strong jaw was shadowed with a bit of stubble and his dark hair shaved on either side, allowed longer across the top in a mohawk of sorts that fell down past his shoulders. A typical hairstyle that most members of the Glaive sported in a somewhat odd show of solidarity, Ravus knew from experience. This one had added a small touch of individuality to the style however, having tamed two or three tiny sections into thin beaded braids. The Glaive’s handsome face broke now into an easy smile, blue eyes affable and respectful if not overly friendly.

“We’re almost to the Crown City, your highnesses,” the man pronounced. “About an hour until we reach the Wall, then depending on traffic we should reach the Citadel in about twenty to thirty minutes after that.”

Ravus just stared at the man, his blank expression never changing. “Joy,” he droned blandly. His bored mask was forced to crack a little when Lunafreya suddenly and discreetly dug the heel of her shoe into the top of his boot. He grimaced and let out a slight grunt of pain, sliding a wounded glare in her direction. Lunafreya’s face gave nothing away of course, expression innocently serene.

She merely flashed the faintly confused Glaive a smile and responded with, “thank you, sir.”

“Ah, just Nyx is fine,” the Glaive insisted, almost as a reflex it seemed. When Luna just nodded to that, Nyx glanced once more at Ravus for a brief but telling moment before turning back forward in his seat. A few seconds later and the glass partition had risen and settled back into place.

“. . . ow,” he ground out slowly once they had privacy again, and Lunafreya turned to give him a very sternly disapproving frown.

“Do try to at least _pretend_ to be civil, Ravus,” his younger sister admonished. He rolled his eyes slightly at that, mulishly turning back to continue glaring out the window. For all that she outranked him, the two siblings were far too close to ever stand on ceremony in private. Thus he freely got away with such blatant disrespect, knowing Luna would never call him on it.

“That eager to become a Lucian, sister?” he demanded bitterly after a beat or two, and he heard her sigh in response.

“Eager to put an end to all the fighting and death,” she corrected, and Ravus did his best to ignore the pinch of shame-faced guilt that assaulted him. “After losing mother, and then father too . . . I couldn’t bear it if I lost you, Ravus. I don’t want to lose anyone else to the Empire, not if I can help it. I would pay any price to see that done.”

“A good thing then that the price is merely the loss of our entire country and identity. Certainly nothing worth worrying over.”

Luna was quiet for several moments, but when she did speak, her soft words drew his gaze back sharply with shock. “Perhaps it’s best that Tenebrae be forgotten.”

Ravus gaped. “Just what is that supposed to mean?” he demanded. Luna met his stare steadily, expression etched with a now-familiar shadow of guilt.

“I love our home, you know that I do, but some of the laws and traditions . . .” she trailed off at that, but Ravus certainly didn’t need her to clarify just what _traditions_ she was referring to. “I tried my best to bring about what change I could but the people back home are still so mired in out-dated and archaic beliefs. Nothing was ever going to get better, not in our lifetimes. Things are not nearly so prejudiced in Lucis however, I’ve heard. Especially in the Crown City.”

The pale-haired Commander glared, fully aware of what his sister was trying to hint at. And there was absolutely no way in hell they were having this conversation, especially not here. “Do not,” was all he bit out in response, flicking his gaze toward the partition briefly in silent warning.

Thankfully Luna wisely dropped it, turning instead to stare out of her own window and lapsing into troubled silence. Ravus breathed a slight sigh of relief.

The rest of the car ride passed in an uneasy silence between the two siblings. Ravus’ attention was finally taken off of trying to ignore that and his niggle of guilt over it once they finally neared the Wall. It was a massive concrete structure that stood several hundred feet high, surrounding Insomnia on all sides. And above that, the shimmering magical dome barrier that further protected the Crown City from harm. Supposedly powered by the King himself through his connection to the fabled Crystal. While Nifflheim had magitek and far superior militaristic advances, certain Lucians could actually draw from the Crystal’s power itself and wield deadly magic. The strongest of those individuals were the royal bloodline of Caelum itself, of course. It was a powerful and versatile advantage, the secret that allowed Lucis to stand in direct opposition of Nifflheim when no other kingdom in Eos could boast the same.

The convoy rolled to a stop while the black-clad soldiers stationed outside the wall briefly conferred with the driver of the lead SUV. Moments later and they began moving once more, slowly passing through the currently open gateway. The sight that lay beyond forced even a jaded Ravus to gape a little in stunned awe.

Tenebrae had a few sizable settlements but for the most part the population was spread into smaller towns and communities woven through the thick forests that covered much of the country. Certainly there was nothing to compare to this . . . this metropolitan monstrosity. Massive buildings stretched up toward the sky and spread out in every direction, as far as the eye could see. The busy streets they passed through were choked with an impossible amount of people, everywhere one looked, all hurrying to and fro on whatever business concerned them. Several stopped to stare at their procession as it passed, and more did so the closer they came to the simply gigantic structure that seemed to dominate the very center of the city.

The fabled Citadel, seat of power of the Caelum Kings; solid at its base but splitting into four separate towers mid-way up and made entirely of darkened stone and walls of gleaming glass. Its style of architecture had obviously been geared toward impressing and intimidating any visitors upon first sight. It definitely succeeded. Ravus forced himself to shake free of his awe after a moment, scowling a little instead. Determined to keep his wits about him now and not lose focus during the trial ahead of him.

The convoy finally came to a permanent stop in front of the broad steps of the Citadel. The crowd of curious onlookers who had turned out to witness their arrival were held back several yards away for safety, the perimeter maintained by several Kingsglaive and a few of the other regular soldiers. Crownsguard, he believed was the distinction.

Ravus felt and heard someone getting out of the SUV up front and moments later the door on Luna’s side of the car—closest to the Citadel—was opened by Nyx. He motioned for her to get out with a gallant sweep of his arm. Ravus meanwhile pushed open his own door and stepped out, grabbing the sword and scabbard that had been resting at his side along the way and taking it with him. Once on his feet he straightened fully, subtly stretching out the muscles in his legs and back with a silent groan of relief. It felt like he’d been folded up and crammed in that vehicle for days, though in reality the trip from Galdin Quay had only lasted a few hours at best. Still, an uncomfortable lifetime for someone of his height.

He took a moment to reattach his sword to its belt slung around his narrow hips, then stepped around the car and moved to where Lunafreya had hesitated, waiting for him. He took up his position to the side and slightly behind her, and then as one they ascended the steps with the Glaive Nyx leading the way. Ravus studiously ignored the small throng of press that clustered a respectful distance away as well as the brilliant firestorm of flashes from their cameras. For Luna’s part she remained serene and composed in the face of the onslaught, not that he expected anything less.

They were led inside the enormous double doors and into an equally huge vestibule. The black tile floors were so clean and polished they were like mirrors. They passed through several halls on the way to their destination and everywhere Ravus looked, the décor showed the same black and slate gray marble accented here or there with gold filigree and inlay. The monotony only broken here or there by the occasional blood red carpeting or rug. And all decoration to be found shared the same, somewhat macabre gothic death motif. _Far_ too many skulls for his personal taste. Both he and Luna—dressed from head to toe in mostly white as was custom for the royalty of Tenebrae—stood out in the surrounding somber atmosphere like brilliant sore thumbs.

All too soon Nyx had brought them to another set of large double doors, this one flanked on either side by more Kingsglaive. He stopped at the threshold and turned to flash them both—but mostly Luna—a warm grin. “Well this is where I leave you, your highness. Knock ‘em dead!” Then he stepped to the side and gave a nod to the other two, who turned and bent to throw the doors wide.

The faint murmur of hushed conversation beyond immediately died. The massive throne room was currently filled with what looked to be near to a hundred well-dressed and stately onlookers, flanked here or there by Kingsglaive standing vigil. They lined the walkway on either side and watched avidly as he and Luna slowly made their way past. Ravus had drawn himself up to his full and rather impressive height under the scrutiny, one gauntleted hand resting on the hilt of his sword with a deceptive nonchalance. His chin was lifted to a haughty angle and his expression was fixed to just this side of sneering arrogance. The room smelled heavily of alpha, not necessarily surprising being among what was no doubt the ruling elite of Lucis, but it immediately raised his hackles and put him on guard. And the strongest of those alpha scents were directly ahead. Where the older King sat on his—in Ravus’ biased opinion—obnoxiously huge throne, flanked on either side by his royal retinue.

King Regis Lucis Caelum was dressed—surprise surprise—head to toe in stately black regalia, accented in gold rope chains that hung across his chest and fixed to one shoulder. His arms rested easily on the sides of the throne, bearded face smooth and relaxed as he waited patiently for them to ascend onto the dais beneath and before him. Ravus met and held the powerful alpha’s stare for several seconds—if just to prove to himself that he could—before he allowed his gaze to flicker across those standing at attention at his sides.

To the right of the king stood a man who was of an age with Regis, his white hair buzzed short and his eyes a piercing crystalline blue. He was dressed in the stately black and gold robed regalia that many of the other nobles in the room sported, though he somehow managed to make the attire actually seem imposing rather than cliché. Perhaps it was simply the weight of his alpha bearing, which Ravus could feel even across the room. This one was dangerous, he quickly decided somewhat nervously, definitely one for him to watch out for.

To the left of the throne stood a young man who could only be Regis’ son and heir. The young alpha had jet black hair that flared up off the back of his head but framed his face on either side. His eyes were his father’s dark steel-blue, which watched them approach with a nonchalance that Ravus had a hard time discerning was real or feigned. Once he took note of the form that stood to the Lucian Prince’s other side, though, Ravus quickly stopped caring one way or another.

It took every scrap of discipline and control he’d cultivated not to let himself react outwardly. As it was Ravus barely caught himself from faltering his steps, as what felt like every muscle in his body jerked and tightened with shock and awareness. He kept from letting his eyes round and his mouth drop open only by the barest of margins.

Sweet Astrals, he was _huge!_

What was quite possibly the biggest alpha Ravus had ever seen stood at attention at Noctis’ side. He easily towered over all the others by several inches, reaching what had to be at least six and a half feet tall in height. The chest and shoulders beneath his black uniform were absurdly broad, arms thick with obvious muscle beneath their long sleeves, currently tucked and crossed behind him. His long legs were like small tree trunks, planted slightly apart in a perfect military at-ease stance. As he got nearer, the alpha’s distinct facial features became clearer and Ravus began wishing that he’d just suddenly go blind. On top of being gigantic, the great behemoth was almost _stupidly_ attractive as well. Warm-tanned skin, a strong jaw sporting a short-trimmed beard, with a scar that spanned the entire left side of his face from hairline to jaw which did absolutely nothing to detract from his good lucks. His dark oak-brown hair was cut and worn in the same style as the Kingsglaive, his eyes the color of honeyed amber. Bright and intense, Ravus had the distinct—and very unsettling—feeling that those eyes were far more interested in him than his sister.

The room was far too full of people at the moment for Ravus to pick out the alpha’s individual scent and he silently thanked the fickle Astrals for that small mercy at least. If he’d had to scent the brute on top of experiencing such a stirring visual . . . For the first time in many years, Ravus wasn’t entirely certain his training would have been enough to hide his damning reactions. For now, he at least had other, far more pressing things to occupy his direct attention. He and Lunafreya finally arrived on the dais before the Lucian King, though Ravus made certain to halt a step behind his sister as was proper. He kept his gaze on Regis for now, stubbornly refusing to allow it to stray anywhere else.

The bearded older man presented them both with a polite smile. “Lady Lunafreya, Lord Ravus,” he addressed them both, giving a slight sweeping gesture with one hand. “Welcome to Insomnia. You honor us with your presence.”

“And our livelihood,” he muttered under his breath. Other than a faint tightening of Luna’s shoulders in annoyance, his slight was largely unnoticed or overlooked.

“Thank-you for receiving us so graciously, your majesty,” was Luna’s practiced response, but of course she somehow made it seem warm and entirely sincere. As if she were greeting a long-lost friend rather than meeting the man in-person for the very first time. “Your city is breathtaking, what little of it I have seen so far. I look forward to seeing more of it in the future.”

Regis’ smile widened into a more genuine expression of pleasure and Ravus inwardly snorted. Lunafreya just had that effect on people.

“A wish that will be no hardship to fulfill, I am certain. For now, if I might make proper introductions?” He gestured to the older man on his right. “This is my sworn Shield, Clarus Amicitia.” If Ravus remembered correctly, the title of ‘Shield’ was a special moniker given to what essentially amounted to a royal guard. A body trained from childhood with the sole purpose of placing itself between the king or queen and any perceived threat. They were almost exclusively alphas, and always among the most skilled fighters. And for generations, the position had been filled exclusively by the Amicitia bloodline. As if to confirm that, the King motioned to the far end on his left, to the alpha Ravus was studiously pretending didn’t exist. “This young man is my son’s Shield, Gladiolus Amicitia. Clarus’ son.”

Ravus still didn’t look, but he could just somehow _feel_ the bastard preening anyway. The knowledge made him want to sneer. Typical alpha—all ego and arrogance.

“And finally, allow me to introduce you to my son,” Regis murmured softly, “Noctis.”

The Prince flinched a little in place and then stood a little straighter—as if someone had covertly poked him in the ribs from just out of view. The younger man cleared his throat a little, then “it’s a, uh, pleasure to meet you. Your highness.” Ravus felt his eyebrow tick upward at the stilted and laughably short greeting. And if Ravus wasn’t mistaken, he saw the King close his eyes for a brief and telling moment afterward, as if in long-suffering pain.

Luna just smiled though and since he knew her better than anyone, Ravus could tell it was with genuine humor. He barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Somehow, his sister seemed to be charmed by the lazy and indifferent Princeling rather than offended.

Regis straightened and addressed the whole room of nobles then, eager to press forward and no doubt cover for his son’s faux pas. “War, death and ugly necessity have brought our two nations together, but it is my great hope that this union will strengthen and last through mutual respect and genuine affection. For Prince Noctis and Lady Lunafreya themselves as much as both our peoples. With our strength combined, the Empire will certainly think twice before trying to oppose us again any time soon. And peace—no matter how long or shortly it might be held—is a goal worth fighting for.” The King paused as the room broke into polite applause and the occasional cheer. When it died down again he addressed Luna and Ravus individually once more. “I am certain you are both weary from your travels. For now, please rest and rejuvenate yourselves. We will have a chance to speak more over dinner this evening.”

Lunafreya bowed at that and Ravus—though it galled him a little—mirrored the gesture as shallowly as his noble upbringing would allow. “We look forward to it. Thank you again, your majesty.”

Ravus and Luna left the throne room much as they’d entered it. Several moments later—through various twists and turns and three separate elevator rides—they were being shown into a suite of rooms that would serve as their new home. Well, at least until the ceremony. Afterward his sister would no doubt be moved into the Prince’s quarters—wherever that may be—while he would probably be tossed out on his ear to fend for himself.

The kindly older beta who had shown them to their rooms announced he would be back at 7 p.m. sharp to escort them to dinner, briefly demonstrated how to use the digital intercom system to summon any sort of assistance if they might require it, then left as promptly and silently as he’d appeared outside the throne room moments earlier.

“Well,” Lunafreya breathed after a moment or two of uncertain silence, turning from inspecting the somewhat spacious common room that separated the two state bedrooms they’d been given. She seated herself into one of the plush armchairs with a sigh. “I think that went rather well.”

Ravus snorted a little, arms crossing over his chest. “You certainly had Regis eating from the palm of your hand, dear sister,” he agreed. His nerves utterly frayed from the effort it had taken to stand firm in the face of so many powerful alphas, his tone was perhaps a touch more sneering and sharp than he intended, but luckily Luna more than understood and didn’t take offense. “That speech he gave was certainly something,” Ravus admitted after a beat, feeling a twinge of grudging respect despite himself. “You can certainly see why his people love him so much.”

Luna nodded in agreement. Then after a slight hesitation, “Prince Noctis seemed nice, as well.” Now Ravus turned to give her his full, dubious attention and frowned at the faint pink tinge to Luna’s cheeks.

“He _seems_ like a completely spoiled brat,” was the elder sibling’s biting assessment.

“Ravus!” Lunafreya protested, caught somewhere between scandalized disapproval and amusement.

“Did you not hear how obviously practiced his words were? Some poor taskmaster somewhere must have had to drill that simple phrase into his skull for days in advance, I’d wager.”

“Perhaps he was just nervous,” she tried to defend stubbornly, but her blue eyes danced with mirth despite herself. “You can’t know for certain.”

At that, Ravus sneered. “I know enough. He is an alpha, a prince. All the world is laid at his feet by sheer privilege of birth, so why should he bother to actually work toward anything in his life? He will have the throne of Lucis, the power of _two_ nations at his beck and call. And now he will have you,” Ravus continued bitterly, unable to keep himself from voicing his innermost fear now that the words had begun, “and I will be left with nothing.”

Lunafreya’s protest was immediate and vehement. “Oh Ravus, surely you know that I would never allow that! I wouldn’t abandon you, not ever!”

To that he just shook his head. Ravus knew Luna would do her best to try and see to his future, to protect him, but there was only so much power she would possess in her new position. The harsh but simple truth was that if her royal alpha mate wanted him gone, there wasn’t a damn thing either of them could do about it. Still, it wasn’t fair to burden Luna with even more worry right now. She carried enough on her thin shoulders as it was. So he let out a somewhat heavy sigh of resignation, reaching up to rub a little at the bridge of his nose. Where a tension headache seemed to be trying to form.

“Forgive me Luna, I am just . . . tired and stressed from the journey.” As excuses went, it wasn’t a terrible one and not entirely untrue either. “Ignore my surliness. I just need a few hours of rest. I’m sure I’ll feel better afterward.”

Whether or not Lunafreya fully believed him, she simply nodded and let it pass. “Rest well,” was all she said.

The tall Commander nodded, then turned away and entered into the room that would be his, gently shutting the door behind him. He wasn’t at all surprised to see that what little amount of luggage he’d brought had already been brought up and stacked neatly to one side. The staff of the Citadel certainly seemed more than competent at their duties. Ravus unhooked his sword and scabbard first, setting the weapon down long-wise across a black lacquered dresser just long enough to accommodate it. His belts were next, dropped somewhat negligently to coil on a nearby chair. His glove and gauntlet joined them a moment later. He removed the heavy white and lavender long coat then—emblazoned with the coat of arms of Nox Fleuret—before hanging it up on a stand meant for such things in the corner. His boots were toed off, and placed neatly side by side nearby.

After that Ravus decided he was simply too tired to remove anything else. Instead he stepped over to the large bed and practically collapsed onto it, still dressed in his long-sleeved button-up shirt, slacks and socks. He closed his eyes then with a faint groan, face buried into a pillow, and silently willed himself into a dreamless coma. A senseless safe haven far away from the constant worry and nervous fear that seemed determined to become his new reality. If only for a few hours, at least.


End file.
